Book 19

But he was left behind within the hall, the noble Odysseus,brooding in his heart on the slaying of the suitors with Athena's aid.Then straightway he spoke winged words to Telemachus:Telemachus, the gear of war must be laid up within the house,all of it; and the suitors you must soothe with soft wordsand beguile, when they question you in their longing for it.I have laid it out of the smoke, since no longer are they likewhat Odysseus left behind when he went off to Troy,but they are soiled, as far as the blast of the fire has reached.And besides, a god has put this greater thought in my heart,lest in your wine, stirring up strife among you,you wound one another and bring shame upon the feastand the wooing; for iron of itself draws a man on.So he spoke, and Telemachus obeyed his own dear father,and he called the nurse Eurycleia aside and spoke to her:Nurse, come now, shut the women within the halls for me,until I lay up in the chamber my father's weapons,the fair arms, which the smoke in the house spoils uncared for,my father being gone away; and I was still a child.But now I wish to lay them up, where the blast of fire will not reach them.Then the dear nurse Eurycleia spoke to him in turn:Ah, if only, my child, you would take thought at lastto care for the house and guard all the possessions.But come, who then will go and bring a light for you?You did not let the maids come forward, who might have shown a torch.Then the prudent Telemachus answered her face to face:This stranger here; for I will not endure an idle man, whoeverlays hands on my rations, even though he has come from far away.So he spoke, and her word flew away unwinged.He shut the doors of the well-built halls.Then the two sprang up, Odysseus and his glorious son,and carried in the helmets and the bossed shieldsand the sharp-pointed spears; and before them Pallas Athena,holding a golden lamp, made a most beautiful light.Then Telemachus straightway spoke to his father:Father, truly this is a great marvel that I see with my eyes.Nevertheless the walls of the hall and the fair cross-beams,and the fir-pitched rafters, and the columns rising high,appear to my eyes as if they were of blazing fire.Surely some god is within, one of those who hold wide heaven.Then much-devising Odysseus answered him and said:Be silent, and hold it in your own mind, and do not ask questions;this is the way of the gods, who hold Olympus.But do you lie down, and I will stay behind here,so that I may yet stir up the maids and your mother;and in her grief she will ask me of each thing in turn.So he spoke, and Telemachus had gone through the hallto lie down in his chamber, beneath the blazing torches,where before he used to sleep, when sweet sleep came upon him;there then he lay down too and waited for the shining Dawn.But he was left behind within the hall, the noble Odysseus,brooding in his heart on the slaying of the suitors with Athena's aid.Then the wise Penelope came from her chamber,like Artemis or golden Aphrodite.Beside her they set a chair by the fire, where she sat down,inlaid with ivory and silver; which once a craftsman,Icmalius, made, and he put a footstool beneath her feetgrowing from it, whereon a great fleece was thrown.There then the wise Penelope sat down.And the white-armed maids came from the hall.They took away the abundant grain and the tables,and the cups, from which the proud men drank;and they threw the fire from the torches down to the ground, and upon themthey piled much wood, to be a light and to give warmth.Then Melantho scolded Odysseus a second time again:Stranger, will you still trouble us here through the night,whirling about the house, and spying on the women?Get out of doors, wretch, and have your fill of the feast;or soon you may be struck with a firebrand and go out.Then much-devising Odysseus spoke, looking at her darkly:Woman, why do you hold such wrath against me in your heart?Because I am dirty and wear foul clothing on my body,and I beg through the land? Necessity drives me on.Such are the poor and wandering men;for I too once lived in a house among men,blessed and wealthy, and often I gave to a wanderer,such as he might be and whatever he came needing;and I had countless slaves, and many other things besides,with which men live well and are called wealthy.But Cronion Zeus destroyed it all; for so he wished, I suppose.Therefore never, lady, may you lose allthe glory that you now have among the maidservants.Lest the mistress in her anger be harsh with you,or Odysseus come; for there is still a portion of hope.But if he has perished so and is no longer to return,yet now there is such a son, by Apollo's grace,Telemachus; and him no woman in the hallsescapes notice when she plays the wanton, since no longer is he a child.So he spoke, and the wise Penelope heard him,and she scolded her handmaid, and spoke a word and called her by name:Bold and shameless dog, no great deed of yoursescapes me, and on your own head you shall wipe it out.For you knew all this well, since you heard it from me myselfthat I was about to ask the stranger in my hallsabout my husband, since I am bitterly grieved.So she spoke, and to the housekeeper Eurynome she said:Eurynome, bring a chair now and a fleece upon it,so that sitting down the stranger may speak a word and hearfrom me; for I wish to question him.So she spoke, and she very eagerly brought and set downa well-polished chair, and threw a fleece over it;there then the much-enduring noble Odysseus sat down.And among them the wise Penelope began the words:Stranger, first of all I myself will ask you this:who and from where among men are you? Where is your city and your parents?Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Lady, no man upon the boundless earth could blame you;for truly your fame reaches wide heaven,as of some blameless king, who, fearing the gods,ruling over many men and mighty ones,upholds good judgements, and the black earth bearswheat and barley, and the trees are heavy with fruit,and the flocks bear young steadily, and the sea gives fishbecause of his good leadership, and the people prosper under him.So question me about the other things in your house,but do not ask about my race and my native land,lest you fill my heart with still more painsas I remember; for I am very sorrowful; and it is not right for mein another's house to sit weeping and wailing,since it is worse to mourn endlessly and forever.Lest one of the maids resent me, or you yourself,and say that I am swimming in tears, my mind heavy with wine.Then the wise Penelope answered him:Stranger, truly the immortals destroyed my virtue and my formand my body, when the Argives went up into Ilion,and among them went my own husband Odysseus.If that man should come and care for my life,my fame would be greater and fairer so.But now I grieve; for a god has poured so many sorrows upon me.For all the best men who rule the islands,Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus,and those who dwell around Ithaca itself with its fair prospect,they court me against my will, and wear out my house.Therefore I pay no heed to strangers or suppliantsor any heralds, who are public servants;but longing for Odysseus, my dear husband, my heart melts away.They hurry on the marriage; but I unravel my deceits.First a god breathed into my heart a robe —when I had set up a great loom, to weave in the halls —fine and very broad; and at once I spoke to them:Young men, my suitors, since the noble Odysseus is dead,wait, eager though you are for my marriage, until I finishthis robe — lest my weaving be wasted —a shroud for the hero Laertes, when the deadly doomof long-drawn death lays him low;lest any of the Achaean women in the land resent me,if one who has gained so much should lie without a shroud.So I spoke, and their proud hearts were persuaded.Then by day I wove at the great loom,and by night I unwove it, when I had set the torches beside me.So for three years I hid it and persuaded the Achaeans;but when the fourth year came and the seasons came round,as the months waned and many days were accomplished,then at last through my maids, the shameless dogs,they came upon me and caught me and scolded me with words.So I finished it under compulsion, though unwilling;but now I can neither escape the marriage nor findany other plan; my parents strongly urge meto marry, and my son chafes, seeing his substanceeaten away; for now he is a man, quite ableto care for the house, and Zeus grants him glory.But even so, tell me your lineage, from where you are.For you are not from the much-talked-of oak nor from a stone.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Lady revered, wife of Laertes' son Odysseus,will you never cease asking about my birth?Come, I will tell you; yet truly you will give me over to more painsthan I now hold; for such is the custom, when a manis far from his own country for as long a time as I am now,wandering over many cities of men, suffering griefs.But even so I will tell you what you ask and inquire about.There is a land called Crete, in the midst of the wine-dark sea,fair and rich, sea-girt; and in it are menmany, beyond counting, and ninety cities.And one tongue is mixed with another; there are Achaeans,there are great-hearted Eteocretans, there are Cydonians,and the threefold Dorians and the noble Pelasgians.Among these is Knossos, a great city, where Minosruled as a nine-year king, the confidant of great Zeus,the father of my father, great-hearted Deucalion.And Deucalion begot me and King Idomeneus.But he went with the curved ships to Ilionalong with the Atreidae, and my glorious name is Aethon,younger in birth; but he was older and better.There I saw Odysseus and gave him guest-gifts.For the force of the wind brought him down to Crete,as he was bound for Troy, driving him off course past Malea;and he anchored at Amnisos, where the cave of Eileithyia is,in difficult harbours, and hardly did he escape the storm.At once I went up to the city and asked for Idomeneus;for he said that he was a dear and honoured friend of his.But it was already the tenth or eleventh dawnsince he had gone with the curved ships to Ilion.Him I led to my house and entertained well,loving him kindly, since there was plenty in the house;and to him and the other comrades who followed with himI gave barley from the public stores and gleaming wine, gathering it,and cattle to sacrifice, so that they might fill their hearts.There the noble Achaeans stayed twelve days;for the great North Wind held them, nor on the landwould it let them stand, and some harsh god roused it.On the thirteenth day the wind fell, and they put out to sea.And he made many falsehoods, speaking them like the truth;and as she listened the tears flowed, and her flesh melted away;as snow melts upon the high-crested mountains,which the East Wind melts, when the West Wind pours it down,and as it melts the rivers run full in their flowing;so her fair cheeks melted as she poured out tears,weeping for her husband who sat beside her. But Odysseusin his heart pitied his weeping wife,but his eyes stood like horn or iron,unmoving beneath his lids; and by cunning he hid his tears.And when she had taken her fill of much-lamented weeping,then again she answered him with words and said:Now truly, stranger, I think I shall test you,whether you truly entertained there in your halls my husbandwith his godlike comrades, as you say.Tell me what clothing he wore about his body,and what he himself was like, and the comrades who followed with him.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Lady, it is hard, being apart for so long a time,to tell it; for already it is the twentieth yearsince he went from there and left my country.But I will tell you as it appears to my heart.A purple mantle, shaggy, the noble Odysseus wore,double-folded; and a brooch for it was made of goldwith double sheaths; and on the front there was a cunning device:in his forepaws a dog held a dappled fawn,gripping it as it struggled; and all marvelled at it,how, though they were of gold, the one gripped and throttled the fawn,while the other struggled with its feet, eager to escape.And I marked the tunic upon his body, shining,like the skin of a dried onion;so soft it was, and it shone like the sun;indeed many women marvelled at it.And another thing I will tell you, and do you lay it in your heart:I do not know whether Odysseus wore these about his body at home,or some comrade gave them to him as he set out on the swift ship,or some stranger, since Odysseus was dearto many; for few of the Achaeans were like him.And I gave him a bronze sword and a double cloak,fair and purple, and a fringed tunic,and I sent him off with honour on the well-benched ship.And a herald followed him, a little older than himself;and him too I will tell you what he was like.Round-shouldered, dark-skinned, curly-haired,Eurybates was his name; and Odysseus honoured him above the othersof his comrades, because he knew what was fitting in his heart.So he spoke, and roused in her yet more desire for weeping,as she recognised the sure tokens that Odysseus had told her.And when she had taken her fill of much-lamented weeping,then she answered him with words and said:Now truly, stranger, though before you were pitiable,in my halls you shall be dear and honoured;for I myself gave those clothes, which you describe,folding them from the chamber, and I put on the shining broochto be a delight to him; but I shall not welcome him againcoming home to his dear native land.Therefore with an evil fate Odysseus went on the hollow shipto look upon evil Ilion, not to be named.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Lady revered, wife of Laertes' son Odysseus,no longer now destroy your fair flesh, nor melt your heartaway, weeping for your husband. I do not blame you at all;for any woman weeps for a husband she has lost,a wedded one, to whom she bore children in love,even for Odysseus, whom they say is like the gods.But cease from weeping, and hear my word;for I will tell you truly and will not conceal it,how I have already heard of the return of Odysseusclose by, in the rich land of the Thesprotian men,that he lives; and he is bringing many good treasures,gathering them by begging through the land. But his trusty comradeshe lost, and the hollow ship, in the wine-dark sea,coming from the island of Thrinacia; for Zeus and Helioswere angry with him; for his comrades killed the cattle of Helios.They all perished in the much-surging sea;but him the wave cast up on the keel of the ship onto dry land,to the land of the Phaeacians, who are near to the gods,who honoured him from their hearts like a godand gave him many gifts, and themselves wished to send himhome unharmed. And Odysseus would have been here long ago;but that seemed to him in his heart to be more profitable,to gather wealth as he went over much land;so greatly does Odysseus know the many gains of mortal men,nor could any other mortal strive with him.So the king of the Thesprotians, Pheidon, told me;and he swore to me himself, pouring a libation in his house,that the ship was drawn down and the crew ready,who would send him to his dear native land.But he sent me away first; for a ship happened to be comingof Thesprotian men to Dulichium, rich in wheat.And he showed me the treasure, all that Odysseus had gathered;and it would feed another to the tenth generation,so much treasure of the king lay in his halls.And he said that he had gone to Dodona, so that from the god'soak of Zeus with its high foliage he might hear the counsel,how he should return to his dear native land,having been away so long already, whether openly or in secret.So he is thus safe and will come here now,very near, and no longer far from his friends and his native landwill he be long away; and yet I will give you oaths.Let Zeus be my witness now, first of the gods, highest and best,and the hearth of blameless Odysseus, which I have reached;truly all this will be accomplished as I speak.Within this very waxing of the year Odysseus will come here,as this month wanes and the next begins.Then the wise Penelope answered him and said:Ah, if only, stranger, that word were accomplished!Then you would soon know friendship and many giftsfrom me, so that whoever met you would call you blessed.But my heart forebodes this, how it will be:that Odysseus will no longer come home, nor will youget an escort, since there are no such men as guides in the houseas Odysseus was among men, if ever he existed,to send honoured strangers away and to welcome them.But come, maids, wash him, and set up a bed for him,bedding and blankets and shining rugs,so that he may come to golden-throned Dawn warm and well.And at dawn, very early, wash him and anoint him with oil,so that he may sit within beside Telemachus and take thought of the meal,sitting in the hall; and it will go worse for whoeverof those men grieves this man with heart-destroying words; and no workwill he do here any longer, however terribly angry he may be.For how shall you learn from me, stranger, whether I surpassthe other women in mind and prudent counsel,if you dine in my halls unwashed and clad in foul clothing?And men are short-lived creatures.He who is harsh himself and knows harsh thoughts,all mortals curse him with sorrows for the time to comewhile he lives, and when he is dead they all mock him.But he who is blameless himself and knows blameless thoughts,strangers carry his wide fameover all men, and many call him a good man.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Lady revered, wife of Laertes' son Odysseus,truly to me cloaks and shining rugshave been hateful, ever since I first left the snowy mountainsof Crete, going on a long-oared ship,and I lie down as I used to lie through sleepless nights;for many nights I have spent on an unseemly bedand waited for the fair-throned shining Dawn.Nor does a footbath of feet that pleases my heartcome to me; nor shall any woman touch my footof those who are your serving women in the house,unless there is some old woman, knowing sound things,who has endured in her heart as much as I have;I would not begrudge her touching my feet.Then the wise Penelope answered him and said:Dear stranger, for never yet has any sensible manof far-off friends come to my houseas you so graciously speak all things with wisdom.I have an old woman who holds prudent counsels in her heart,who once nursed that unhappy man well and cherished him,receiving him in her arms when his mother first bore him;she shall wash your feet, though she is feeble now.But come now, arise, wise Eurycleia,wash your master's age-mate; and perhaps Odysseusis already like this in his feet and like this in his hands;for in misery men quickly grow old.So she spoke, and the old woman covered her face with her hands,and shed warm tears, and spoke a doleful word:Oh, woe is me for you, child, helpless as I am; truly Zeushas hated you, though you had a god-fearing heart.For never yet has any mortal gladdened Zeus who delights in thunderwith so much rich thigh-bone and chosen hecatombsas you gave him, praying that you might reach a sleekold age and raise a glorious son;but now he has taken from you alone the day of your return.So too, I suppose, women mocked that manwhen he came to anyone's glorious house, a far-off stranger,just as these dogs here all mock you;and avoiding their abuse and much shame,you do not let them wash you; but the daughter of Icarius,the wise Penelope, has ordered me, and not against my will.So I will wash your feet both for Penelope's sakeand for your sake, since my heart within me is stirredby cares. But come now, mark the word that I shall speak:many long-suffering strangers have come here,but never yet, I say, have I seen anyone so likeas you are like Odysseus in body and voice and feet.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Old woman, so say all who have seen us bothwith their own eyes, that we are very like each other,as you yourself in your prudence say.So he spoke; and the old woman took the shining basinand began washing his feet; and she poured in muchcold water, then stirred in hot. But Odysseussat by the hearth, and quickly turned toward the darkness;for suddenly in his heart he suspected that, taking hold of him,she might notice the scar and the matter become plain.She came near and washed her master; and at once she knewthe scar, which a boar had once struck with its white tuskwhen he went to Parnassus to Autolycus and his sons,his mother's noble father, who surpassed menin thievery and in oaths; and the god himself had given him this,Hermes; for to him he burned acceptable thigh-bonesof lambs and kids; and the god attended him willingly.And Autolycus came to the rich land of Ithacaand found a new-born child of his daughter;and Eurycleia laid him on the dear kneesas he was finishing his supper, and spoke a word and named him:Autolycus, do you yourself now find a name to giveto your dear daughter's child; he is much prayed for.Then Autolycus answered her and spoke:My son-in-law and my daughter, give him whatever name I say;for I have come here having angered many,men and women too, over the much-nourishing earth;so let his name be Odysseus, the name of odium; and I myself,when he grows up into manhood and comesto his mother's great house at Parnassus, where my treasures are,I will give him them and send him away glad.For this reason Odysseus came, so that he might receive the glorious gifts.Then Autolycus and the sons of Autolycuswelcomed him with their hands and with gentle words;and his mother Amphithea, clinging to the mother of Odysseus,kissed him on the head and on both his fair eyes.And Autolycus called to his glorious sonsto prepare a feast; and they heard him urging them on,and at once they brought in a bull, male and five years old;they flayed it and dressed it, and cut it all up,and chopped it skillfully and fixed the pieces on spits,and roasted it carefully, and divided the portions.So then all day long until the setting of the sunthey feasted, and their heart lacked nothing of the equal feast;and when the sun set and darkness came on,then they lay down and took the gift of sleep.And when early-born rosy-fingered Dawn appeared,they went off to the hunt, both the dogs and the sonsof Autolycus themselves; and with them the noble Odysseuswent; and they came up the steep mountain, clothed in forest,of Parnassus, and soon reached its windy folds.And the Sun was then just striking the fields anewfrom the softly flowing, deep-flowing Ocean,and the hunters came into a glen; and before themthe dogs went, tracking the steps, and behind themthe sons of Autolycus; and with them the noble Odysseuswent close to the hounds, brandishing a far-shadowing spear.There in a thick thicket a great boar lay couched;this place neither the wet fury of the blowing windscould pass through, nor did the shining Sun strike it with its rays,nor did the rain pass through; so dense it was,and there was a heap of fallen leaves, abundantly deep.Then the noise of the feet of men and dogs came around it,as they pressed on toward it; and the boar came out of the thicket to face them,its bristles raised well along its back, glaring fire with its eyes,and it stood close to them; and Odysseus, first of all,rushed forward, raising the long spear in his stout hand,eager to wound it; but the boar got in first and struck himabove the knee, and ripped off much flesh with its tusk,leaping sideways, but it did not reach the man's bone.And Odysseus struck it, hitting it on the right shoulder,and the point of the shining spear went straight through;and it fell in the dust with a groan, and its spirit flew away.Then the dear sons of Autolycus attended to it,and the wound of the blameless, godlike Odysseusthey bound skillfully, and with a charm they stopped the dark blood,and quickly they came to the house of his dear father.Then Autolycus and the sons of Autolycus,having healed him well and given him glorious gifts,sent him away gladly and swiftly to his native land,to Ithaca. And his father and queenly motherrejoiced at his return and asked him about everything,and about the scar and how he came by it; and he told them wellhow the boar had struck him as he hunted with its white tusk,when he had gone to Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus.This the old woman took in her hands, palms flat,and knew it as she felt it, and let the foot fall;and the shin fell into the basin, and the bronze rang out,and it tipped back the other way; and the water poured out on the ground.Then joy and grief seized her heart at once, and her two eyesfilled with tears, and her full voice was checked.She touched his chin and spoke to Odysseus:Truly you are Odysseus, dear child; and I did not recognise youbefore, until I had touched all of my master.So she spoke, and looked with her eyes at Penelope,wishing to tell her that her dear husband was within.But she could neither look at her face to face nor notice her;for Athena had turned her mind; but Odysseusfelt for her throat and seized it with his right hand,and with the other drew her closer to himself and spoke:Nurse, why do you wish to destroy me? You yourself nursed meat your own breast; and now, after suffering many sorrows,I have come in the twentieth year to my native land.But since you have perceived it and a god put it in your heart,be silent, lest any other in the halls learn of it.For I will tell you this, and it will surely be accomplished:if a god subdues the proud suitors under me,I will not hold back from you, though you are my nurse, when Ikill the other women slaves in my halls.Then the wise Eurycleia answered him and said:My child, what a word has escaped the fence of your teeth!You know how firm and unyielding my spirit is,and I will hold it like solid stone or iron.And another thing I will tell you, and do you lay it in your heart:if a god subdues the proud suitors under you,then I will tell you the women in the halls,those who dishonour you and those who are blameless.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Nurse, why should you tell me of them? There is no need at all.Well, I myself will look into it and will know each one;but keep the matter silent, and leave it to the gods.So he spoke, and the old woman had gone through the hallto fetch the footbath; for all the earlier water had been spilled.But when she had washed him and anointed him richly with oil,again Odysseus drew his chair closer to the fireto warm himself, and hid the scar under his rags.Then the wise Penelope began the words among them:Stranger, I myself will ask you a little more;for soon will be the hour of pleasant rest,when sweet sleep seizes a man, even one in sorrow.But for me a god has given measureless grief;for by day I take my pleasure in weeping and wailing,looking at my own work and at the maids in the house;but when night comes and sleep seizes everyone,I lie in my bed, and thick sharp cares around my throbbing heartstir me as I weep.As when the daughter of Pandareus, the green-clad nightingale,sings beautifully when spring is newly come,sitting in the thick leaves of the trees,who often turning about pours out her many-sounding voice,mourning her dear child Itylus, whom once with bronzeshe killed in her folly, the son of lord Zethus,so too my heart rises in two ways, here and there,whether I stay with my son and keep all things steadfast,my possessions, my slaves, and my high-roofed great house,respecting the bed of my husband and the voice of the people,or whether I now follow whichever of the Achaeans is bestand courts me in the halls, offering countless bride-gifts.And my son, while he was still a child and foolish,did not let me marry, leaving my husband's house;but now that he is grown and has reached the measure of youth,he prays me to go back out of the hall,chafing at the substance which the Achaeans devour.But come, interpret my dream for me and hear it.I have twenty geese in the house eating wheatfrom the water, and I take delight in watching them;and a great hook-beaked eagle came from the mountainand broke all their necks and killed them; and they layheaped together in the halls, while he rose into the shining sky.Then I wept and wailed, even in my dream,and around me gathered the fair-tressed Achaean women,as I lamented pitifully that the eagle had killed my geese.But he came back and sat on the projecting roof-beam,and with a human voice he restrained me and spoke:Take courage, daughter of far-famed Icarius;this is no dream but a good waking vision, which will be accomplished for you.The geese are the suitors, and I, who was before a bird, an eagle,have now come back as your husband,who will set a shameful doom upon all the suitors.So he spoke, and sweet sleep released me;but I looked about and saw the geese in the hallsfeeding on wheat beside the trough, where they were before.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Lady, it is in no way possible to interpret the dreamturning it aside, since Odysseus himself has shown youhow he will fulfil it; and destruction appearsto all the suitors, and none will escape death and the fates.Then the wise Penelope answered him and said:Stranger, dreams truly are baffling and unclear in speech,nor does everything come true for men.For there are two gates of shadowy dreams:one pair is fashioned of horn, the others of ivory;those that come through the sawn ivory,they deceive, bearing words that are not accomplished;but those that come out through the polished horn,they bring true things to pass, whenever a mortal sees them.But I do not think that my dread dream came from there;truly it would be welcome to me and to my son.And another thing I will tell you, and do you lay it in your heart:this hateful dawn is coming, which will keep meaway from Odysseus' house; for now I will set a contest,those axes, which he used to set up in his own hallsin a row, like ship's props, all twelve of them;and standing far off he used to shoot an arrow through them.Now I will set this contest for the suitors:whoever most easily strings the bow in his handsand shoots an arrow through all twelve of the axes,with him I will go, leaving this house,my bridal home, very beautiful, full of life;which I think I shall remember even in my dreams.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Lady revered, wife of Laertes' son Odysseus,no longer now put off this contest in the house;for much-devising Odysseus will come here beforethese men, handling this well-polished bow,can string the string and shoot through the iron.Then the wise Penelope answered him and said:If you would wish, stranger, sitting beside me in the halls,to delight me, sleep would never be poured upon my eyelids.But it is in no way possible for men to be alwayssleepless; for the immortals have set a portion for each oneof mortals upon the grain-giving earth.But I will go up to the upper chamberand lie down in my bed, which has been made sorrowful for me,always drenched with my tears, ever since Odysseuswent to look upon evil Ilion, not to be named.There I will lie down; but do you lie down in this house,either making a bed on the ground or on the bedding they set out.So saying she went up to the shining upper chamber,not alone, for the other handmaids went with her.And going up to the upper room with the women attendants,she wept then for Odysseus, her dear husband, untilbright-eyed Athena cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids.

But noble Odysseus was left behind in the hall,thinking over with Athena how to kill the suitors.He quickly spoke winged words to Telemachus:Telemachus, all the war gear has to be put away inside,every bit of it; and with soft words you mustput the suitors off when they ask you about it, missing it.I have stored it out of the smoke, since it is no longer likewhat Odysseus left behind when he went to Troy,but it has been spoiled as far as the fire's blast has reached.And a god has put this bigger worry in my mind too,in case you get drunk and start a quarrel among yourselvesand wound each other and disgrace the feastand the wooing; for iron all by itself pulls a man on.So he said, and Telemachus obeyed his own dear father,and he called the nurse Eurycleia over and said to her:Nurse, come on, shut the women inside the halls for me,until I put my father's weapons away in the storeroom,the fine ones, which the smoke in the house is ruining while nobody cares,now that my father is gone; and I was still a child.But now I want to put them away where the fire's blast cannot reach them.Then the dear nurse Eurycleia answered him:If only, child, you would take some sense at lastand look after the house and guard all the property.But come on, who will bring a light for you then?You did not let the maids come forward, the ones who could give light.Then the sensible Telemachus answered her directly:This stranger here; because I will not put up with an idle manwho touches my rations, even if he has come from far away.So he spoke, and her word went no further without wings.He locked the doors of the well-built halls.Then the two of them jumped up, Odysseus and his glorious son,and carried in the helmets and the bossed shieldsand the sharp-pointed spears; and ahead of them Pallas Athena,holding a golden lamp, made a very beautiful light.Right then Telemachus quickly spoke to his father:Father, this really is a great wonder that I see with my eyes.Even so, the walls of the hall and the fine cross-beams,and the fir-pitched rafters, and the columns standing up high,they look to my eyes as if they were burning fire.Surely some god is inside, one of those who hold wide heaven.Then much-devising Odysseus answered him and said:Be quiet, keep it inside your own mind and do not ask questions;this is the way of the gods, who hold Olympus.But you go and lie down, and I will stay behind here,so that I can still stir up the maids and your mother;and grieving, she will ask me about each thing.So he spoke, and Telemachus had gone across the hallto lie down in his room, under the light of the torches,where he used to sleep before, when sweet sleep came over him;there he lay down then too and waited for the shining Dawn.But Odysseus was left behind in the hall,thinking over with Athena how to kill the suitors.Then wise Penelope came out of her room,looking like Artemis or golden Aphrodite.Beside her they set a chair by the fire, where she sat,inlaid with ivory and silver; a craftsman oncemade it, Icmalius, and he fixed a footstool under her feetthat grew out of the chair itself, and a thick fleece was thrown over it.Then wise Penelope sat down there.And the white-armed maids came in from the hall.They took away the great quantity of grain and the tablesand the cups, from which the arrogant men had been drinking;and they threw the fire from the torches down on the ground, and on top of themthey piled up a lot of wood, to give light and to warm the room.Then Melantho scolded Odysseus a second time again:Stranger, are you still going to keep bothering us here through the night,turning around the house, and staring at the women?Get outside, you wretch, and enjoy the feast;or soon you may be hit with a firebrand and go outside too.Then much-devising Odysseus spoke, looking at her from under his brows:You maddening woman, why do you come at me like this with anger in your heart?Because I am filthy and wear foul clothes on my skin,and I beg around the country? Hard need drives me to it.Poor men and wanderers are like this;and I too once lived in a house among people,a rich man, and I often used to give to a wanderer,whatever kind of man he was and whatever he came needing;and I had countless slaves, and many other things as wellby which men live well and are called rich.But Cronion Zeus destroyed it; he wanted it, I suppose.So you, woman, may you never lose allthe glory that you now have among the slave women;in case the mistress gets angry and is harsh with you,or Odysseus comes; there is still a chance of hope.But if he is dead like that and is never coming back,still there is now a son like this, thanks to Apollo,Telemachus; and no woman in the hallsacts badly without him noticing, since he is no longer a child.So he spoke, and wise Penelope heard him,and she scolded her maid, and said a word and called her by name:You bold dog, shameless through and through, you do not escape my noticedoing a great wicked thing, and you will wipe it off on your own head.You knew all of this perfectly well, since you heard it from me myselfthat I meant to ask the stranger in my hallsabout my husband, since I am deeply grieved.So she spoke, and she said to the housekeeper Eurynome:Eurynome, bring a chair now and a fleece to put on it,so that when the stranger sits down he can speak a word and listento me; for I want to question him.So she spoke, and she very quickly brought and set downa well-polished chair, and she threw a fleece over it;there then much-enduring noble Odysseus sat down.And among them wise Penelope began the talk:Stranger, first of all I myself will ask you this:who are you and where are you from? Where is your city and your parents?Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Lady, no man on the boundless earth could find fault with you;for truly your fame reaches wide heaven,like that of some blameless king, who fears the godsand rules over many men and strong ones,and upholds fair justice, and the black earth bearswheat and barley, and the trees are heavy with fruit,and the flocks keep bearing young, and the sea gives fishbecause he leads well, and the people prosper under him.So ask me about the other things in your house,but do not ask about my family and my homeland,in case you fill my heart with even more painwhen I remember it; and I am very full of sorrow; and I should notsit in another man's house weeping and wailing,since it is worse to go on mourning endlessly forever.In case one of the maids resents me, or you yourself,and says I am swimming in tears, my mind weighed down with wine.Then wise Penelope answered him:Stranger, truly the immortals destroyed my excellence and my looksand my body, when the Argives went up to Ilion,and among them went my own husband Odysseus.If that man came and looked after my life,my fame would be greater and finer that way.But now I grieve; a god has piled so many troubles on me.For all the best men who rule the islands,Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus,and those who live around Ithaca itself with its fine view,they court me against my will, and they wear out my house.So I pay no attention to strangers or to suppliantsor to any heralds, who are public workers;but longing for Odysseus, my dear husband, my heart melts away.They are rushing the marriage; but I am spinning my tricks.First a god breathed a robe into my mind,when I had set up a big loom, to weave in the hall,fine and very wide; and at once I said to them:Young men, my suitors, since noble Odysseus is dead,wait, eager as you are for my marriage, until I finishthis robe, so my weaving is not wasted,a burial shroud for the hero Laertes, against the time whenhis destructive fate of long-drawn death lays him low;in case one of the Achaean women in the country resents me,if a man who gained so much lies there without a shroud.So I said, and their proud hearts were persuaded.Then by day I wove at the big loom,and at night I undid it, once I had set the torches beside me.So for three years I hid it and kept the Achaeans fooled;but when the fourth year came and the seasons came round,with the months waning and many days completed,then at last, through my maids, the shameless dogs,they came on me and caught me and scolded me with words.So I finished it, unwilling, under compulsion;but now I cannot escape the marriage, nor can I findany other plan; my parents very much urge meto marry, and my son is upset, watching his propertybeing eaten up; he understands; for now he is a man, quite ableto look after the house, and Zeus gives him glory.But all the same, tell me your family, where you are from.You are not from the famous oak or from a rock.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Honoured lady, wife of Laertes' son Odysseus,will you never stop asking about my birth?Come, I will tell you; but you really will hand me over to more griefsthan I already have; for it is the custom, when a manis away from his own country for as long a time as I am now,wandering over many cities of men, suffering pains.But even so I will tell you what you are asking and inquiring about.There is a land called Crete, in the middle of the wine-dark sea,a fine rich place, surrounded by water; and in it there are menin great numbers, past counting, and ninety cities.And one language is mixed with another; there are Achaeans,there are great-hearted Eteocretans, there are Cydonians,and the three-divided Dorians and the noble Pelasgians.In these cities is Knossos, a great city, where Minosruled as a nine-year king, the companion of great Zeus,the father of my father, great-hearted Deucalion.Deucalion fathered me and King Idomeneus.But he went with the curved ships to Ilionalong with the sons of Atreus, and my famous name is Aethon,younger by birth; he was older and better.There I saw Odysseus and gave him guest-gifts.For the force of the wind brought him down to Crete,as he was trying to reach Troy, and drove him off course past Malea;and he put in at Amnisos, where the cave of Eileithyia is,in hard harbours, and he barely escaped the storm.At once I went up to the city and asked about Idomeneus;for he said he was a dear and honoured friend of his.But it was now the tenth or the eleventh dawnsince he had gone with the curved ships to Ilion.I brought him to my house and entertained him well,treating him kindly, since there was plenty in the house;and to him and the other comrades who came with himI gave barley from the public store and dark wine, which I gathered,and cattle to sacrifice, so they could fill their hearts.There the noble Achaeans stayed twelve days;for the great North Wind held them down and did notlet them stand on the land, and some harsh god stirred it up.On the thirteenth day the wind dropped, and they put out to sea.He made up many lies and told them looking like the truth;and as she listened the tears flowed, and her skin melted away;the way snow melts on the high-topped mountains,which the East Wind melts, after the West Wind pours it down,and as it melts the rivers run full as they flow;so her lovely cheeks melted as she poured out tears,weeping for the husband sitting beside her. But Odysseusin his heart pitied his weeping wife,yet his eyes stood still like horn or ironwithout moving under his lids; and he hid his tears by trickery.And when she had had enough of much-wept weeping,then she answered him again with words and said:Now, stranger, I think I am going to test you,whether you really entertained my husband there in your hallswith his godlike comrades, as you are saying.Tell me what kind of clothes he had on his body,and what he himself was like, and the comrades who came with him.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Lady, it is hard, after being away so long,to tell it; for it is already the twentieth yearsince he left that place and went away from my country.But I will tell you as it appears to my heart.Noble Odysseus had a purple mantle, shaggy,double; and a brooch had been made for it of goldwith two sheaths; and on the front there was a figured design:a dog was holding a dappled fawn in its forepaws,gripping it as it struggled; and everyone marvelled at it,how, though they were gold, the one gripped and choked the fawn,while the other struggled with its feet, wanting to get away.And I noticed the tunic on his skin, gleaming,just like the skin of a dried onion;that is how soft it was, and it shone like the sun;indeed many women admired it.And I will tell you something else, and put it in your mind:I do not know whether Odysseus wore these on his body at home,or some comrade gave them to him as he set out on the swift ship,or maybe some stranger, since Odysseus wasdear to many; for few of the Achaeans were like him.And I gave him a bronze sword and a double cloak,a fine purple one, and a fringed tunic,and I sent him off with honour on the well-benched ship.And a herald came with him, a little older than he was;and him too I will describe to you, what he was like.Round-shouldered, dark-skinned, with curly hair,his name was Eurybates; and Odysseus honoured him beyond the othersof his comrades, because he knew what suited his mind.So he spoke, and he stirred in her even more desire to weep,as she recognised the sure tokens Odysseus had told her.And when she had had enough of much-wept weeping,then she answered him with words and said:Now, stranger, though you were pitiable before,in my halls you will be dear and honoured;for I myself gave those clothes you are describing,folding them out of the storeroom, and I added the shining broochto be a delight to him; but I will not welcome him againcoming home to his dear homeland.So it was with an evil fate that Odysseus went on the hollow shipto look on evil Ilion, which should not be named.Then much-devising Odysseus answered her and said:Honoured lady, wife of Laertes' son Odysseus,stop now destroying your lovely skin, and stop meltingyour heart, weeping for your husband. I do not blame you at all;for any woman weeps for the man she has lost,her wedded husband, to whom she bore children in love,or for Odysseus, whom they say is like the gods.But stop the weeping, and listen to what I say;for I will tell you the truth and I will not hide it,how I have already heard about the return of Odysseusclose by, in the rich country of the Thesprotian men,that he is alive; and he is bringing back many good treasures,collecting them by begging around the country. But his trusty comradeshe lost, and the hollow ship, in the wine-dark sea,coming from the island of Thrinacia; for Zeus and Helioswere angry with him; his comrades killed the cattle of Helios.They all died in the much-surging sea;but the wave threw him up on the keel of the ship onto dry land,into the land of the Phaeacians, who are near to the gods,who honoured him from their hearts like a godand gave him many gifts, and themselves wanted to send himhome unharmed. And Odysseus would have been here long ago;but it seemed better to him in his heartto go collecting goods over a great deal of land;so well does Odysseus know the many ways of profiting among mortal men,and no other mortal could compete with him.That is what Pheidon, king of the Thesprotians, told me;and he swore to me himself, pouring a libation in his house,that the ship was hauled down and the crew was ready,men who would send him to his dear homeland.But he sent me away first; a ship happened to be comingof Thesprotian men to Dulichium, rich in wheat.And he showed me the treasure, all that Odysseus had gathered;and it would feed another family to the tenth generation,so much treasure of the king lay in his halls.And he said he had gone to Dodona, so that from the god'shigh-leaved oak of Zeus he might hear the counsel,how he should come home to his dear homeland,having been away so long now, whether openly or in secret.So he is safe in this way and will come here now,very near, and will not be far from his friends and his own landmuch longer; and yet I will give you oaths on it.Let Zeus be witness now, first of the gods, highest and best,and the hearth of blameless Odysseus, which I have come to;truly all this will be fulfilled as I say.Within this very year Odysseus will come here,as this month ends and the next begins.Then the wise Penelope answered him and said:I wish, stranger, that this word of yours were fulfilled!Then you would soon find friendship and many giftsfrom me, so that anyone who met you would call you blessed.But this is how my heart guesses it will be:that Odysseus will not come home any more, and you will notget an escort, since there are no such leaders in the houseas Odysseus was among men, if he ever was,to send honoured guests away and to welcome them.But come, maids, wash him, and set up a bed for him,bedding and blankets and shining covers,so that he may come to golden-throned Dawn warm and comfortable,and at dawn, very early, wash him and rub him with oil,so that he may sit inside beside Telemachus and think about the meal,sitting in the hall; and it will be the worse for whoeverof those men grieves this man with heart-destroying words; and no workwill he do here any longer, however terribly angry he is.For how will you learn from me, stranger, whether I am betterthan other women in mind and prudent counsel,if you dine in the halls unwashed and wearing wretched clothes?And men are short-lived creatures.Whoever is harsh himself and knows harsh thoughts,all mortals curse him with sorrows for the futurewhile he lives, and when he is dead they all mock him.But whoever is blameless himself and knows blameless thoughts,strangers carry his wide fameto all men, and many call him a good man.Then Odysseus of many devices answered her and said:Lady, honoured wife of Laertes' son Odysseus,truly cloaks and shining covershave been hateful to me, ever since I first left the snowy mountainsof Crete, going on a long-oared ship,and I lie down as I used to lie through sleepless nights;for many nights I have spent on a wretched bedand waited for fair-throned shining Dawn.Nor does a footbath for my feet that pleases my heartcome to me; nor will any woman touch my footof those who are your serving women in the house,unless there is some old woman who knows what is sound,who has endured in her heart as much as I have;I would not begrudge her touching my feet.Then the wise Penelope answered him and said:Dear stranger, never yet has any sensible manof far-off friends come to my houseas you speak all your words so gracefully and with such sense.I have an old woman who keeps prudent counsels in her heart,who once nursed that unhappy man well and brought him up,taking him in her arms when his mother first gave him birth;she will wash your feet, though she is feeble now.But come now, get up, wise Eurycleia,wash your master's age-mate; and perhaps Odysseusis already like this in his feet and like this in his hands;for in misery men quickly grow old.So she spoke, and the old woman covered her face with her hands,and let fall warm tears, and spoke a doleful word:Poor me, for you, child, helpless as I am; truly Zeushas hated you, though you had a god-fearing heart.For never yet has any mortal pleased Zeus who delights in thunderwith so much rich thigh-bone and chosen hecatombsas you gave him, praying that you might reach a sleekold age and raise a glorious son;but now he has taken from you alone the day of your return.So too, I suppose, women mocked that manwhen he came to anyone's glorious house as a far-off stranger,just as these dogs here all mock you;and avoiding their abuse and much shame,you do not let them wash you; but the daughter of Icarius,the wise Penelope, has ordered me, and not against my will.So I will wash your feet both for Penelope's sakeand for your own, since my heart within me is stirredby cares. But come now, mark the word I shall speak:many long-suffering strangers have come here,but never yet, I say, have I seen anyone so likeas you are like Odysseus in body and voice and feet.Then Odysseus of many devices answered her and said:Old woman, so say all who have seen us bothwith their own eyes, that we are very like each other,as you yourself in your good sense say.So he spoke; and the old woman took the shining basinand washed his feet; and she poured in plenty ofcold water, then stirred in hot. But Odysseussat by the hearth, and quickly turned toward the darkness;for suddenly in his heart he suspected that, taking hold of him,she might notice the scar and the matter become plain.She came near and washed her master; and at once she knewthe scar, which a boar once struck with its white tuskwhen he went to Parnassus to Autolycus and his sons,his mother's noble father, who surpassed menin stealing and in swearing oaths; and the god himself gave him this,Hermes; for to him he burned welcome thigh-bonesof lambs and kids; and the god attended him willingly.And Autolycus came to the rich land of Ithacaand found a new-born child of his daughter;and Eurycleia laid him on the dear kneesas he was finishing his supper, and spoke a word and named him:Autolycus, you yourself now find a name to giveyour dear daughter's child; he is much prayed for.Then Autolycus answered her and spoke:My son-in-law and my daughter, give him whatever name I say;for I have come here having made enemies of many,both men and women, over the much-nourishing earth;so let his name be Odysseus; and I myself,when he grows up into manhood and comesto his mother's great house at Parnassus, where my treasures are,I will give him them and send him away glad.For this reason Odysseus came, so that he might receive the glorious gifts.Then Autolycus and the sons of Autolycuswelcomed him with their hands and with gentle words;and his mother Amphithea, clinging to the mother of Odysseus,kissed him on the head and on both his fair eyes.And Autolycus called to his glorious sonsto prepare a feast; and they heard him urging them on,and at once they brought in a bull, male and five years old;they skinned it and dressed it, and cut it all up,and chopped it skillfully and put the pieces on spits,and roasted it carefully, and divided the portions.So then all day long until the setting of the sunthey feasted, and their heart lacked nothing of the equal feast;and when the sun set and darkness came on,then they lay down and took the gift of sleep.And when early-born rosy-fingered Dawn appeared,they set out for the hunt, both the dogs and the sonsof Autolycus themselves; and with them noble Odysseuswent; and they climbed the steep mountain covered in forest,Parnassus, and soon reached its windy folds.And the Sun was then just striking the fields anewfrom the softly flowing, deep-flowing Ocean,and the hunters came into a glen; and before themthe dogs went, tracking the tracks, and behind themthe sons of Autolycus; and with them noble Odysseuswent close to the hounds, brandishing a far-shadowing spear.There in a thick thicket a great boar lay couched;neither the wet fury of the blowing windscould pass through it, nor did the shining Sun strike it with its rays,nor did the rain pass through; so dense it was,and there was a heap of fallen leaves, abundantly thick.Then the noise of the feet of men and dogs came around it,as they pressed on toward it; and the boar came out of the thicket to face them,its bristles raised well along its back, glaring fire with its eyes,and it stood close to them; and Odysseus, first of all,rushed forward, raising the long spear in his thick hand,eager to wound it; but the boar got in first and struck himabove the knee, and tore off much flesh with its tusk,leaping sideways, but it did not reach the man's bone.And Odysseus struck it, hitting it on the right shoulder,and the point of the shining spear went straight through;and it fell in the dust with a groan, and its spirit flew away.Then the dear sons of Autolycus attended to it,and the wound of blameless, godlike Odysseusthey bound skillfully, and with a charm they stopped the dark blood,and quickly they came to the house of his dear father.Then Autolycus and the sons of Autolycus,having healed him well and given him glorious gifts,sent him away gladly and quickly to his native land,to Ithaca. And his father and queenly motherrejoiced at his return and asked him about everything,and about the scar and how he got it; and he told them wellhow the boar had struck him as he hunted with its white tusk,when he had gone to Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus.This the old woman took in her hands, palms flat,and knew it as she felt it, and let the foot fall;and the shin fell into the basin, and the bronze rang out,and it tipped back the other way; and the water poured out on the ground.Then joy and grief seized her heart at once, and her two eyesfilled with tears, and her full voice was checked.She touched his chin and spoke to Odysseus:Truly you are Odysseus, dear child; and I did not recognise youbefore, until I had touched all of my master.So she spoke, and looked with her eyes at Penelope,wishing to tell her that her dear husband was inside.But she could neither look at her face to face nor notice her;for Athena had turned her mind; but Odysseusfelt for her throat and seized it with his right hand,and with the other drew her closer to himself and spoke:Nurse, why do you want to destroy me? You yourself nursed meat your own breast; and now, after suffering many sorrows,I have come in the twentieth year to my native land.But since you have perceived it and a god put it in your heart,be silent, in case any other in the halls learns of it.For I will tell you this, and it will surely be fulfilled:if a god brings the proud suitors down under me,I will not hold back from you, though you are my nurse, when Ikill the other women slaves in my halls.Then the wise Eurycleia answered him and said:My child, what a word has escaped the fence of your teeth!You know how firm and unyielding my spirit is,and I will hold it like solid stone or iron.And another thing I will tell you, and do you lay it in your heart:if a god brings the proud suitors down under you,then I will tell you the women in the halls,those who dishonour you and those who are blameless.Then Odysseus of many devices answered her and said:Nurse, why should you tell me of them? There is no need at all.Well, I myself will look into it and will know each one;but keep the matter silent, and leave it to the gods.So he spoke, and the old woman had gone through the hallto fetch the footbath; for all the earlier water had been spilled.But when she had washed him and anointed him richly with oil,again Odysseus drew his chair closer to the fireto warm himself, and hid the scar under his rags.Then the wise Penelope began the words among them:Stranger, I myself will ask you a little more;for soon will be the hour of pleasant rest,when sweet sleep seizes a man, even one in sorrow.But for me a god has given measureless grief;for by day I take my pleasure in weeping and wailing,looking at my own work and at the maids in the house;but when night comes and sleep seizes everyone,I lie in my bed, and thick sharp cares around my throbbing heartstir me as I weep.As when the daughter of Pandareus, the green-clad nightingale,sings beautifully when spring is newly come,sitting in the thick leaves of the trees,who often turning about pours out her many-sounding voice,mourning her dear child Itylus, whom once with bronzeshe killed in her folly, the son of lord Zethus,so too my heart rises in two ways, here and there,whether I stay with my son and keep all things steadfast,my possessions, my slaves, and my high-roofed great house,respecting the bed of my husband and the talk of the people,or whether I now follow whichever of the Achaeans is bestand courts me in the halls, offering countless bride-gifts.And my son, while he was still a child and foolish,did not let me marry, leaving my husband's house;but now that he is grown and has reached the measure of youth,he prays me to go back out of the hall,chafing at the substance which the Achaeans devour.But come, interpret my dream for me and hear it.I have twenty geese in the house eating wheatfrom the water, and I take delight in watching them;and a great hook-beaked eagle came from the mountainand broke all their necks and killed them; and they layheaped together in the halls, while he rose into the shining sky.Then I wept and wailed, even in my dream,and around me gathered the fair-tressed Achaean women,as I lamented pitifully that the eagle had killed my geese.But he came back and sat on the projecting roof-beam,and with a human voice he restrained me and spoke:Take courage, daughter of far-famed Icarius;this is no dream but a good waking vision, which will be fulfilled for you.The geese are the suitors, and I, who was before a bird, an eagle,have now come back as your husband,who will set a shameful doom upon all the suitors.So he spoke, and sweet sleep released me;but I looked about and saw the geese in the hallsfeeding on wheat beside the trough, where they were before.Then Odysseus of many devices answered her and said:Lady, it is in no way possible to interpret the dreamturning it aside, since Odysseus himself has shown youhow he will fulfil it; and destruction appearsto all the suitors, and none will escape death and the fates.Then the wise Penelope answered him and said:Stranger, dreams truly are baffling and unclear in speech,nor does everything come true for men.For there are two gates of shadowy dreams:one pair is made of horn, the others of ivory;those that come through the sawn ivory,they deceive, bearing words that are not fulfilled;but those that come out through the polished horn,they bring true things to pass, whenever a mortal sees them.But I do not think that my dread dream came from there;truly it would be welcome to me and to my son.And another thing I will tell you, and do you lay it in your heart:this hateful dawn is coming, which will keep meaway from Odysseus' house; for now I will set a contest,those axes, which he used to set up in his own hallsin a row, like ship's props, all twelve of them;and standing far off he used to shoot an arrow through them.Now I will set this contest for the suitors:whoever most easily strings the bow in his handsand shoots an arrow through all twelve of the axes,with him I will go, leaving this house,my bridal home, very beautiful, full of life;which I think I shall remember even in my dreams.Then Odysseus of many devices answered her and said:Lady, honoured wife of Laertes' son Odysseus,no longer now put off this contest in the house;for Odysseus of many devices will come here beforethese men, handling this well-polished bow,can string the string and shoot through the iron.Then the wise Penelope answered him and said:If you would wish, stranger, sitting beside me in the halls,to delight me, sleep would never be poured upon my eyelids.But it is in no way possible for men to be alwayssleepless; for the immortals have set a portion for each oneof mortals upon the grain-giving earth.But I will go up to the upper chamberand lie down in my bed, which has been made sorrowful for me,always drenched with my tears, ever since Odysseuswent to look upon evil Ilion, not to be named.There I will lie down; but you lie down in this house,either making a bed on the ground or on the bedding they set out.So saying she went up to the shining upper chamber,not alone, for the other handmaids went with her.And going up to the upper room with the women attendants,she wept then for Odysseus, her dear husband, untilbright-eyed Athena cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids.